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Dorothy Richmond shares encounters

Chapman was a culture shock for me. I turned 18 soon after I moved into the dorm, but I was an innocent in a big city. Every little excursion became an adventure for me. Even quiet dates with Robert were a new experience.

Robert was a preacher’s son, so he got a scholarship, but he didn’t have any money. Our dates were long walks in the neighborhood. Sometimes, his brother and friends towed a Model-T up to the top of a nearby hill and parked it there. That was so that Robert and I could sit in it and “talk.”

To an older girl, that might not have been much fun — but I loved seeing the city that way. The sparkling city lights below us — even the traffic lights looked festive when rain reflected them on the pavement.

One rainy night, it got too close to curfew, so Robert let the car coast down the hill. I held my breath — would the brakes work? That part of our date wasn’t quiet at all. I made curfew, though.

Quiet walks were not the style for everyone, though. One of the juniors, a pretty brunette, was dating one of Bing Crosby’s sons. When he came to pick her up (in a tiny blue convertible), all the girls on her floor made catcalls and blew kisses. He handled it well. He opened the door for her, waved at the girls hanging out of the windows, then jumped over the door into the driver’s seat. We all knew about their dates.

It’s true that I wouldn’t have known a movie star from anyone on the street, but I know for sure that I met an “extra.” I was on a bus, and a tired looking middle-aged man boarded and sat across from me. We smiled and began talking. He was wearing boots, a kerchief at his neck, and carried a dusty western hat. He said, “Thank you for smiling at me — I don’t get that much.”

He wagered I wasn’t a native of Los Angeles. Turns out he’d been working in a Western movie since 4 a.m. and was on his way home to Brentwood. He would be home before his three kids got home from school.

I saw three movie stars during that semester. The first sighting happened one Saturday morning when a noisy carload of us were heading west on Santa Monica Boulevard. One of the girls lived on the beach, and she wanted us to meet her family. (It was in that home that I saw a live lobster lowered into a pot of boiling salt water. I’ll never forget that!).

Anyway, in the next lane, there was a utility truck — like the kind they take prisoners to jail in — and staring sadly out of one of the small, square windows, was Elizabeth Taylor! Of course, I was impressed, but I was also struck by the sadness in her face. her Saturday would be on location — working. I would be with a family of fun loving lobster-eaters.

And, who would ever guess that the man who starred in a pathetic little movie called “Bonzo Goes to College” would later become President of the United States? The movie was being filmed at City College, just across the street, and I was among the gawkers who watched the process. With a megaphone, a young man on a platform instructed the extras when to ohhh and ahhh. They kept their eyes on a tennis ball suspended from a tall bamboo pole — (that was “Bonzo” as he tripped along an electric wire). He encourage them like a cheerleader would. I remember that he warned them never to look at the camera — if they did, they wouldn’t be hired again.

We didn’t get much of a look at Ronald Reagan. We noticed that his trailer was parked in the shade, and that it was the biggest one there. His face and neck were heavily made up with awful orange pancake makeup. It looked thick and hot.

Then, we poked each other in the ribs when we saw a bored-looking girl settle into a canvas chair. Her name was Diana Lynn. Gosh, she was so sad looking. Maybe it was shyness, or maybe she felt like an animal in the zoo, but she wouldn’t look anyone in the eye. We were about her age, but she was from a different world. I’d seen her in other movies, and knew that she was an excellent pianist, but this stupid movie wouldn’t offer any chance for that. She was wearing that dreadful orange makeup, too. Hmmm.

Movies had lost a little of their mystery and glamour, but I was still seeing stars.

•Dorothy Richmond is a member of the Down Memory Lane writers group, which meets at 10 a.m. on Thursdays at the Tulare Senior Center.